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“She’s right.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he’s a virgin, too, but the question lodges itself in my throat when his gaze lands on my parted mouth.
“Are you any good?” Logan teases, moving half an inch closer. “At kissing, that is.”
I roll my eyes, recounting the kisses I’ve had in my life, equaling to a whopping two. “Um, sh-yeah?”
One brow quirks. “I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?”
Whatever reaction he’d expected, questioning him wasn’t it.
Logan’s chest rumbles as he tips his head toward the sky, and I’m painfully aware of all the points where our bare skin touches and every groove his fingerprints make on either side of my spine.
“What’s so funny?” I grumble.
“I was…” He pauses, face flashing amusement that’s highlighted by the sunlight refracting off the water. “That was an awful attempt at trying to get you to kiss me.”
I drop my eyes to his full lips before flicking them back up. “You want me to kiss you?”
I expect him to push me away, maybe even make one of his classic jokes, but Logan does neither. In fact, he holds my stare steadily, assuredly, before whispering, “Yeah, I do.”
Gentle breaths skate across my trembling lips, but I panic. “Okay, I lied… I-I may actually be bad.”
“You won’t be.”
“I’ve only kissed two other people,” I stammer, self-conscious that he’s probably had plenty of practice with this sort of thing. “Well, not people—boys. Not that you’d think it was girls, but maybe you would—”
A deep chuckle cuts me off as he melds a smile to my lips softly, tenderly, and I release a tiny eep beneath them. But when his mouth opens, and he kisses me again, a spark snaps right up my middle, prodding me into action.
“Oh,” I breathe, mimicking his movements cautiously. “This…” I whisper, adding another kiss. “Okay, this is nice.”
Logan’s chest does that rumbly thing again as his eyes close. “Pen.”
“Hmm?”
“Stop talking.”
He hikes my legs higher around his waist, lifting me up and deepening the kiss in a way that makes both my sixth- and tenth-grade pecks seem like kisses from Grandma.
“Wait. What is that?” I ask, feeling a hot, wet swipe along my lower lip.
“My tongue, Penelope,” he adds, playfully exasperated.
“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do with it?”
“Touch it with yours.”
Brows furrowed, I pull back. “No way. Isn’t that gross?”
Humor pinches his face as he slowly shakes his head. “Let me show you.”
I’m suspicious, but tentatively, I allow him to reclaim me. His tongue snakes out when we part our mouths, brushing mine delicately.
“Oh.” Pinpricks of electricity ride my taste buds before his lips are back, folding over mine in a way that burns from the tips of my ears to my core.
“See?” he whispers. “That feels good, doesn’t it?”
